


'Tis the Damn Season

by stevierosebudds (vulcantastic)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, F/F, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, so much gddamn fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcantastic/pseuds/stevierosebudds
Summary: Alexis is throwing a little shindig for her first holiday season in New York City, but none of it is going according to plan. Takes place in the "I Think She Knows" universe, but you don't need to read that to understand this!
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd/Alexis Rose
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	'Tis the Damn Season

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays! I wanted to write one more story for the show that made my 2020. Title is taking from Taylor Swift's song on "evermore," though I assure you the tone of this fic is polar opposite in nature. Enjoy!

“Babe, what do you think of this tinsel placement? I’m, like, iffy about the crimson draped over the mantle but I can be persuaded— _Stevie_!”

Stevie peered up from an intense game of solitaire on her phone. “What?”

“ _Pay_ attention!” Alexis crossed her arms over her chest, and Stevie stifled a laugh. It was impossible to take her girlfriend’s annoyance seriously when Alexis was wearing a pink glittery Santa hat and an oversized, fluffy white sweater. “Are you even doing work stuff on there?”

Stevie slid a seven of clubs into her second column. “Mhm. Yes. _Super_ important emails.”

This was, of course, a lie. Stevie liked the holidays, but not enough to express much enthusiasm about them most years. ’Tis the friggin’ season, blah, blah. It was usually just an excuse for Stevie to drink a little too much and eat a few too many baked goods.

Alexis huffed. “Well, tell my workaholic dad to go away then. Just because _he_ ’s too busy to come to my party …” She trailed off, half-turning back to fiddle with the decorations.

And it wasn’t the slight waver in Alexis’ voice, or the hardly noticeable slumped stance of defeat, that gave her away—though Stevie had noticed all that, too.

No, it was the touch of disappointment in her eyes just before she turned her gaze to the decorations that Stevie was worried about. A look she’d seen a lot the last few days.

All month, really, since Mr. and Mrs. Rose had declined her holiday party invitation due to Moira’s filming schedule and Johnny’s endless meetings. And since the biggest blizzard in nearly a decade had hit the town of Schitt’s Creek this week, effectively snowing in David Patrick (and nearly all of Central Ontario), and ensuring their attendance tonight was a hard “maybe.” So if all went terribly wrong, Alexis’ first Christmas in New York City would be kind of … well, lackluster.

And it was that look behind her mask of nonchalance that Stevie wanted to fix, however she could, even in a small way. Since she’d stumbled into Alexis Rose’s romantic orbit in the fall, Stevie had found she’d do just about anything to make her girlfriend smile. A real one, borne out of unadulterated joy. The kind that was a little lopsided and made her eyes crinkle. That was Stevie’s favorite.

And if she couldn’t do that tonight, well. She could at least be there for her.

Stevie put her phone face-down on the couch, nodding resolutely. “Okay. I’m helping. No distractions.”

Alexis stepped back, gesturing to the chipped wood mantelpiece (the realtor had called it “rustic”). “What does it need? Is the red-to-green ratio off?”

Stevie bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head. “At the risk of being thrown out of your apartment, I’m gonna say you’re sounding scarily like your brother.”

“Ew, g _od_ , no.” Alexis gave a full-body shudder. “Also, David thinks tinsel is tacky. _I_ say it adds a nice shimmer. Plus, David might not even _show up_ tonight so what does it matter what my _stupid_ apartment looks like.”

“Lex—” Stevie stopped herself from saying something sarcastic in light of the expression on Alexis’ face, which was akin to that of some kind of wounded forest creature.

Instead, she pointed to the leftmost edge of the mantel. “I’d do a little more green on this side. Otherwise, looks good.”

“Thanks, babe.” Alexis leaned over and gave her a lipstick-covered kiss on the forehead. “Uuuugh, I have to finish setting up the lil’ Hanukkah corner.” Stevie blinked, having no idea what that even entailed. She watched Alexis retrieve her phone from her back pocket, peeking at the screen for the time. “Um, can you check on the gingerbread cookies? They should be done now.”

“On it.” Stevie hopped up from her seat on the couch, attempting moderate enthusiasm—the most she could muster even at the best of times, if she was honest—and headed into the tiny kitchen, which was cluttered with baking utensils and the remnants of gingery dough in stacked bowls. _This’ll be fun to clean up._

Stevie took an oven mitt from its haphazard place on the edge of the sink, opening the oven.

The sight that greeted her was, objectively, fucking hilarious.

The twelve cookies that had originally been cut out in the approximate shape of people were flat and stuck to the pan—and to each other. Not a single one had risen into the impossibly fluffy yet crunchy treat it should have. In fact, they’d all somehow fused together into one, sad, crispy lump.

But Stevie knew she couldn’t laugh. She couldn’t. She _wouldn’t._

“Um.” Stevie cleared her throat and half-turned, calling back to the living room: “Alexis? You might want to come in here and look at this.”

Sure enough, Alexis flounced into the room, looking just pleased enough with herself that Stevie kind of wanted to cry on top of the wanting to laugh.

Then Stevie was abruptly accosted by Alexis’ peppermint-scented perfume as she leaned around Stevie to look into the oven.

She wasn’t at all prepared for the horrified, primal screech that roared from the depths of her girlfriend’s throat.

Alexis stumbled back, eyes wide. “Oh my god.” Stevie busied herself taking the tray out of the oven to avoid meeting the other woman’s eyes as Alexis practically wept, “My gingerbread men. They’re …”

“Dead,” Stevie supplied solemnly as she turned and placed a sympathetic hand on her girlfriend’s arm. “So very, very dead.”

Alexis stomped her foot, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t know what I did wrong!” She pointed accusingly at the magazine splayed open on the kitchen table where she’d gotten the recipe. “Why don’t they look like the picture?”

Stevie was already scanning the ingredients list, wondering if perhaps there had been a misprint. She wasn’t exactly a contender for the Great Canadian Baking Show, but she knew a thing or two. When she’d wanted baked treats as a kid, she’d no other choice but to make them herself.

“I mean, as long as you put baking soda in, they should’ve risen.”

Silence. Which, for Alexis Rose, was deeply unsettling.

“Alexis.” Stevie looked up from the magazine, almost afraid to ask the question: “Did you put baking soda in?”

Alexis shook her head incredulously, hands up by her chest and bent at the wrist in their usual position. “Um, who decided to name one of the most important ingredients after a _beverage_?”

“I—what? Uh. That’s not how that—”

“ _Ugh_!” Before Stevie could launch into an explanation of the function of baking soda, Alexis stormed out of the kitchen, boots leaving click-clacking echoes behind them.

Stevie sighed, turning the oven off and half-jogging out to find Alexis lying sprawled on the couch with her head in her hands, shiny Santa hat abandoned on the floor.

Seeing her so openly defeated was rare. And a little heart-wrenching.

Stevie quietly made her way over to the couch and tapped Alexis’ jean-clad legs lightly. Alexis let out a “hmph” and lifted them just enough in response for Stevie to sit down and place them on her lap.

For a little while, there was silence as Stevie patted Alexis’ legs, peering up at the ceiling. And then, after several strings of seconds, she prodded gently: “I can’t believe I have to ask this of you, but: talk to me.”

Alexis let her hands fall from her face to her lap with a theatric thump, and she propped herself up on an elbow. “This is my first Christmas in New York. My first one on my own.” Stevie took note of Alexis snatching a ringlet of hair between her pointer finger and thumb, dragging her fingers through the strands—a habit of agitation. “Like, as a _real_ adult. Not like, a quasi-adult spending the holidays eating mussels with Charlize Theron in Honfleur.”

Stevie poked one of Alexis’ knees. “I don’t think you ever told me _Charlize_ was my competition.”

“ _Not_ the point, babe.” Alexis sighed, throwing her head back against the arm of the couch again. “None of this is going the way I wanted! And with the snow back home messing up all the travel … God, if you’d left, like, _three_ days later you’d be stuck too, and I’d be all alone.” Her voice cracked a little at the last word.

“But you’re not, Lex.” Stevie prided herself on the fact that she wasn’t a bullshitter. So she hoped Alexis could sense the truth in every one of her syllables: “I’m here. With you. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else, okay?”

Judging by the way Alexis was looking at her, a little soft and a little affectionate, Stevie’s rare display of sincerity was coming through. She quickly padded it with a joke: “It’s not like I have family to run to. Cheers to mommy issues.”

“Ste-vieee.” Alexis knit her brows together, which was very endearing. “I’m having a moment. Don’t _out_ -sad my sad.”

“Right. Sorry.” Stevie thought for a moment, then slapped Alexis’ legs decisively, ignoring the tiny ‘ow!” that escaped her girlfriend’s lips. “All right. Look. Last we heard from David they were trying to get on that other flight. But even if it’s just the two of us, we’ll make it nice. We’ll bake more cookies, order food. Have some drinks and maybe watch a movie. Okay?”

“‘Kay.” Alexis unceremoniously and uncharacteristically wiped her nose with the back of her hand, a little display of vulnerability, of trust, and Stevie thought, _Damn_ , _I really love this girl_.

“So." Stevie threw her thumb behind her in the general direction of the kitchen. “First batch, not so great. That’s okay.”

Alexis swung her legs back over the couch, fully sitting up now, which was a good sign by all accounts. “We don’t have time to make another one. You have to chill the dough for these.” Stevie tried to hide her surprise and was entirely unsuccessful. "See? _I_ know things too.”

“But you have enough ingredients to make something else, right?”

Alexis shrugged. “I guess.” The resignation was creeping into her tone again, and well, Stevie simply couldn’t have that.

She stood up, holding out her hands to Alexis. “Join me in the kitchen, Mademoiselle?”

Alexis rolled her eyes, clearly on the verge of a smile, and Stevie counted that as a little victory.

They walked through the kitchen doorway, and as Alexis shuffled around disposing of the murdered gingerbread men, Stevie peered at the ingredients sprawled out on the cramped counter.

She cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. “I _do_ know Nana Budd’s chocolate chip cookie recipe by heart,” she said slowly, aiming to float the idea cautiously in Alexis’ frazzled state. “Not super festive, but I think we can get them done quick. Better to have one baked good than none, right? That’s what Jocelyn always says. Uh, I think.”

Alexis crossed her arms over her chest and nodded a little, mostly toward the floor.

“And … “ Stevie picked up a little plastic canister of assorted holiday-themed sprinkles on the kitchen table, giving them a little shake. “We can mix these into the dough to add a little flare. What do you think?”

Alexis looked up, all doe eyes again, and said softly: “You’ll make them with me?”

Stevie wanted to melt kind of like those cookies had. But she shrugged it off, nodding toward the cupboard above the toaster. “I dunno what you’re standing there looking at me for. Get the chocolate chips.”

* * *

They stood practically on top of each other in the tiny kitchen, and Stevie thought idly that she would’ve liked it this way even if they had all the room in the world. Feeling Alexis next to her, shoulder-to-shoulder, the warmth of her body and of the general radiance she exuded just by existing, was a fairly new constant in her life she was starting to get used to.

“It’s okay that you miss your family,” she said, stirring the thick batter with noticeable effort. _Do I need to start working out? … Nah_. “You wanted to see them on the holidays. That’s normal.”

“Yeah, um. A _super_ _new_ normal for my family in case you missed the memo.” Alexis shrugged, adding the last half-cup of flour into the mixture. “Maybe I do miss them more than I thought I did. And I also thought, um. That maybe Mom and Dad would want to see how I’m doing. That I’m, like, making it on my own, you know? They haven't even seen my apartment.”

Stevie quirked a brow in minor concern, passing the bag of chocolate chips to her girlfriend. “They check on you, don’t they?” With how much Mr. Rose talked about his kids on their franchising calls, Stevie had assumed as much.

“Yeah, totally. But. It’s not the same as …” She trailed off, gradually adding the chocolate to the bowl while Stevie continued to mix.

“Being with them,” Stevie finished for her. “I know.” She set up two trays between them, placing the bowl of batter in the middle and handing Alexis a spoon. “Okay. Ready to scoop these out?”

Alexis took the utensil before leaning down and pressing a languid kiss to Stevie’s lips. When she pulled back, her blue eyes were shining a little. “Hey. Thanks for cheering me up.”

Stevie bit the inside of her lip. “Yeah. Sure. I don’t really care that much about Christmas but.” Oh boy. Vaguely emotional admission incoming: “I just want you to be happy, that’s all.”

“Aw, _babe_.” Alexis gave a small shimmy, wrapping her free arm around Stevie’s waist and tugging her to her chest. “Wanna wrap you up in a lil’ bow, ‘cause you’re the best gift ever.”

“That’s corny as hell.” She leaned up and kissed Alexis on the nose, and they got to work. Alexis sang Christmas tunes off-key, and Stevie didn’t even complain (out loud) once.

No sooner had they popped the sheets in the oven was there a knock on the door. Stevie looked at the clock on the microwave—9:15pm. Was it the takeout she’d ordered here already?

Alexis traipsed to the door while Stevie started cleaning up the counter, and the jubilant cry of, “Oh my _god_! You guys made it!” coming from the other room made Stevie grin from ear to ear despite herself. She’d had hope David and Patrick would make it down, though she hadn't wanted to voice it to Alexis in case it hadn’t worked out.

Maybe this evening’s festivities would turn around for her girlfriend after all.

Stevie shuffled into the living room just in time to see David half-falling into the apartment, dropping an overstuffed bag with a loud thump. “That flight was torture. You owe me a visit for my birthday.”

Alexis clapped her hands excitedly, gesturing around her. “Come in! I made it super cute in here!”

Patrick was right behind him, carrying two midsize suitcases in either hand with ease. He looked around, brown eyes bright. Almost offensively cheery, as always. “The place looks wonderful, Alexis,” he chirped, neatly placing the bags in front of the couch before sidling up to David, who was still making a show of breathing a little heavily and wiping his forehead. “Doesn’t it, David?”

In lieu of a hello, Stevie went to David’s other side and kicked his shin. “ _Doesn’t it,_ David?”

“Ow, _fuck_ —Looks great.”

“Oh, _yay_! Thank you!” Stevie decided that Alexis’ beaming expression was worth the death-glare she got from David. “I’m gonna make you guys some drinks. And the cookies are almost ready! Make yourselves at _home_!”

Stevie darted her gaze back and forth between the Brewer-Roses incredulously as Alexis made her way to the kitchen. “How did you do it?”

Patrick took off his obnoxious red earmuffs and ran a hand through his short hair. “Got the very last flight out tonight. There were _two_ seats left; can you believe it?” He brought a hand to the small of David’s back, rubbing a bit. “ _Somebody_ wasn’t thrilled he had to sit so far away from me.”

“The woman on my right was a serial hard-candy cruncher,” David snapped, carefully hanging his sleek winter coat behind the front door. “Who _chews_ on a Werther’s Original?”

Stevie gestured for them both to sit down on the couch, and she perched on the arm on David’s left. “I ordered Thai, by the way. Should be here in less than an hour.”

“Thank fucking god,” David hissed as Alexis skipped back into the room, handing a cold beer each to Stevie and Patrick and a mixed drink to David.

“So I expected you guys _way_ earlier but that’s okay. Are you staying over, like, here tonight?”

David took his drink with a small nod of recognition. “Uh, _no._ We have a hotel a few blocks away. I’d rather not cram both myself _and_ my husband on this ratty couch.”

Patrick shrugged. “What can I say. I’ve been told I have kind of a bubble butt.”

“It’s thick,” Stevie decided it was necessary to add.

Alexis scoffed. “Ew, like I want you here anyway. And the couch is _not_ _ratty_ , David, it’s from IKEA …”

As quickly as it had been dragged down with despair earlier, the small apartment was now alive with activity. Alexis put on her “Cute Christmas” Spotify playlist. Patrick made a scene of embarrassing shoulder-dancing that made David roll his eyes so far back into his head Stevie thought they might take up permanent residence there.

And between rounds of retrieving cookies from the oven and letting them cool and setting up the multiple containers of takeout in the kitchen, Stevie let herself be spun around to a few too many covers of “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

She stared at David and Patrick in calm resignation, sipping her beer as Alexis wrapped her arms around her from behind and swayed her to the beat.

“You are an _incredible_ dancer, Stevie,” David bit out in painstakingly slow syllables to hide his very evident amusement. “Really calling back to your _Cabaret_ moment.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Stevie replied cheerfully just as she felt Alexis’ phone begin to buzz behind her, a familiar rhythm indicating a video call. Alexis broke their contact to answer, lifting the phone to fit them both in frame.

“Alexis? Honey? Is this working?” Mr. Rose was squinting at his phone camera as if it had personally insulted him. Once he got a clear picture, he grinned. “Oh, hi to you too, Stevie!”

“Dad!” Alexis cried, and in the next millisecond, Moira’s face appeared at the other corner of the screen, blonde wig perfectly coiffed as she donned her _Sunrise Bay_ doctor attire. “Mom, I thought you were on set!”

“I am, dear. Can’t you hear the bustle of television magic happening behind me?” Stevie resisted the urge to comment that Moira was sitting entirely alone in an empty trailer and let her go on, “John and I were truly heartbroken to decline your invitation. And I certainly would be remiss not to witness the yuletide fruits of my favorite _soiree_ -planner’s labor. Might you give us a tour?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Stevie could see Alexis’ face—a hopeful, surprised expression in her raised brows and hint of a cautious smile. She all but choked out, “Really?”

“Of course.”

And then she was off, taking her parents with her around the apartment.

Stevie made her way back over to the couch, nudging David’s arm. “Did you remind them to call?” She asked, trying to mask the tinge of affection teasing at her tone.

“Actually, I didn’t,” David replied, sipping on his gin and tonic. “It was really sweet. Mom texted me and asked, ‘What’s Alexis’ phone number again?’ So. All their idea.”

“—Alexis, we’re so proud of you,” Stevie heard Mr. Rose say as Alexis turned the phone camera on herself again with a view of the glittery blue menorah as her backdrop. “You’ve really made the place yours.”

"That's what _I think, too_! It's _definitely_ not like my place in San Francisco, but that had three whole palm trees in the front yard and an in-ground pool, so ..."

And suddenly the cacophony of the Rose family all being in the same room together seemed to fill the room.

Alexis’ phone was in Patrick’s hands now as Mr. Rose screamed unnecessarily into his speaker about baseball, while Moira called out simultaneously that David needed to “send me more of those hand creams with the friends-and-family discount.” David and Alexis bickered over a long-lost clothing item that Alexis had very clearly stolen and never given back to him.

And Stevie sat with a cookie in one hand and a beer in the other. If she closed her eyes, it was as if none of them had ever left the town of Schitt’s Creek.

But they had. Well, some of them, anyway. And others had stayed. And so many great things were ahead for all of them.

But right now, they were together. Perhaps not in the way they expected, but they’d made it work.

And wasn’t that the point of this whole cheesy season anyway?

She could just pick up on Alexis’ sing-song voice on the couch beside her as she turned to face her brother. Quiet, a little thickly: “Missed you.” Stevie saw her boop David’s nose out of the corner of her eye.

“Um, okay.” David swatted her hand away, but nobody could miss him nudging his knee against hers and his soft, “You, too.”

Stevie averted her eyes to her lap, smiling. _’Tis the damn season,_ she thought, placing a hand on Alexis’ knee as the latter leaned over and kissed the side of her head.

It wasn’t so bad, anyway.

With the right people, perhaps it was pretty damn great.


End file.
